


The Summoning

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person, spoonie!Noctis, the gods are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: The first time Ramuh is summoned, Noctis can’t walk afterwards.





	The Summoning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11 August 2017, on my tumblr. Edited for grammar 6 December 2018.
> 
> While I'm still proud of this work, please understand that it is more than a year old as of this archiving. As such, it is not my best work nor representative of my writing today.

The first time Ramuh is summoned, Noctis can’t walk afterwards.

Gladiolus, of course, is the first person to rush to him, toppled and limp on top of a ruined MA.  
  
“Noct!”  
  
He hoists Noctis up, lifting his arm around his neck and pulling him into a one person carry.  
  
“You alright?” Gladiolus prompts, shaking him a little.  
  
Noctis barely forms a coherent sentence.  
  
“’M…fine. We gotta…go…gotta get to th'car.”  
  
Ignis and Prompto reach the other two, Prompto immediately going to Noctis’s other side and supporting his weight from there.  
  
Noctis’s head is lolling to the side, like his neck muscles can’t hold it up anymore. His eyes are wide open, still a fuchsia color with the power of the Gods running through him. Bits of his hair stick up out of his molded, spiked look because of the static electricity. He damn near glows, but not in a good way.  
  
Prompto jostles him.  
  
“Hey, hey, how ya doin’?”  
  
“Need…rest,” he gets out, faster and less slurred this time.  
  
“Would an Elixir help?” Ignis asks, and Noctis shakes his head. Instead of reaching for one of the drinks, Ignis pulls one of his gloves off and puts a hand to the other man’s forehead.  
  
“There any Havens nearby?” Gladiolus asks. Ignis retracts his hand and reaches for the map in his back pocket.  
  
“Yes, but I wonder if it would be better to go the extra couple of hours to Lestallum, with more facilities.”  
  
“Don’t care,” Noctis interrupts, shakily, “just…need to rest.”  
  
“Right,” Ignis turns away from the three men, “I’ll navigate. You two help carry him to the car.”  
  
Prompto and Gladiolus nod, and they all start moving through the dewy field, back to the stairs at the side of the highway. Noctis does eventually start to find his footing, a little, but still can’t quite put his own shaky boots to the ground to walk on his own. By the time they approach the car, a light rain has started to fall.  
  
“Ah, shit,” Gladiolus moans, “the seats’ll be soaked.”  
  
“It’s not that bad,” Ignis rolls his eyes, “but it may be best to put a jacket down for Noct to sit on. I’ll put the top up.”  
  
He slides into the driver’s seat as Prompto and Gladiolus stand still in the rain, straining under the weight of their friend. The key goes in, the top goes up, and Gladiolus leaves the supporting to Prompto as he slides his jacket off and onto the damp leather of Noctis’s usual seat.  
  
Once Noctis gets inside, he curls himself up tightly and nearly molds himself to the door.  
  
“Think Ignis wants me to look at the map with him,” Gladiolus says, pulling himself out of the backseat. “Can you stay with Noct?”  
  
“Yeah, totally,” Prompto says, already on the move and sliding into the car after Noctis. He shuts the door gently, and turns to see the pained creases in his companion’s face. Noctis’s teeth chatter and his hands are running up and down his arms, trying to get the goosebumps to lay off. The fuchsia is only now starting to drain from his irises.  
  
Prompto slips an arm around his shoulder. Noctis doesn’t complain; in fact, he leans into it.  
  
“Hey,” Prompto starts, unsure of how this conversation will play out. “You okay?”  
  
It takes a moment for him to say something.  
  
“M'fine.”  
  
Prompto laughs, “Dude, if you’re into calling me out on my bullshit, I have to do it for you too.”  
  
Noctis shifts even closer. “Stupid concerned boyfriend.”  
  
“Yup. ‘Fraid you’re stuck with my nagging. Seriously, Noct…”  
  
Prompto looks down to his face.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
Noctis curls inward, shakes his head no.  
  
Prompto wraps his other arm around Noctis’s huddled form, pulling his legs into his lap, almost.  
  
It’s a short reprieve, but it’s enough. Ignis soon slips into the front seat and Gladiolus beside him, in the passengers’.  
  
“As much as I hate to say it,” Ignis says with a cursory look back at the tangled boys, “with the weather and time constraints, it appears we will have to stay at a Haven for the night, then go to Lestallum in the morning.” He puts the key into the ignition, and then turns completely back to Noctis.  
  
“Can you manage that?”  
  
Noctis nods.  
  
“Could crash anywhere, at this point.”  
  
Ignis sees something in Noctis, the two trained to read each others’ expressions. After a moment passes, he turns back to pull out of the turnout and onto the main highway.  
  
“I would hope you eat first,” Ignis says, teasing.  
  
“Hey, uh, Gladio,” Prompto says, “did you wanna switch to our normal-”  
  
Gladiolus waves a big hand back.  
  
“S'fine, kid. Take care of Noct.”  
  
Noctis sits up more, now. Prompto is able to do the same, and the two curl together, supporting each other in the backseat.  
  
Once they get to the Haven, the rain has subsided. Noctis insists on walking, but his strength fails him right away. Prompto stays with him in the car again while Gladiolus pitches the tent, then they duck inside once it’s up.  
  
Ignis wipes his knives down under threatening dark clouds, sets up the stove, and starts a pot of broth for soup and a kettle for tea.  
  
Gladiolus sits by the entrance to the tent on slick runestone, sorting the items and trinkets found after the fights today, and inventorying their supplies.  
  
Inside, Prompto and Noctis’s bed rolls are smushed together, combined into a cozy, amorphous pile of camp bedding. Noctis barely holds a cup of tea in one hand, slowly sipping, while the other taps away on his phone, leaning up on his thigh. Prompto is engaged similarly, snuggled beside his best friend, buried in blankets and teamed up with Noctis in a game of King’s Knight for the ages.  
  
When Noctis can’t keep his eyes open anymore, Prompto puts his phone to sleep for him, presses a kiss to his temple and wriggles out of the tent into the crisp evening air.  
  
In another time, a place far in the future, Prompto would be cursing the Astrals right now. He would yell and beg until he’s hoarse, wondering why his friend and lover must suffer like this.  
  
For now though, Prompto swallows his crisis of faith, and asks Ignis if he needs any help making dinner.


End file.
